


Factories

by Quiet_Shadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Artificial Insemination, M/M, Mpreg, Non Consensual, Other, Rape/Non-con References, Slash, Sparklings, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the war, Cybertron's population is dangerously low. People are getting desperate to rebuild their home and species. So desperate that, despite the governement's best efforts, breeding factories are opening all over Cybertron, and those who run them don't hesitate to kidnap mechs and femmes alike to use as breeders. Thankfully, the Enforcers are tracking them down...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Factories

**Author's Note:**

> An older fic of mine, written around 2009-2010, and inspired by a bunny on the tf_bunny_farm: http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/199157.html#cutid1
> 
> #37: With the population dangerously low after the war, breeding factories are opened all over Cybertron. Although these factories are highly illegal as they are considered immoral. Which is why those running them have to resort to kidnapping mechs and femmes to use as breeders. People pay to be allowed entrance into the factories, where they choose which prisoner they want to bear their sparkling.
> 
> Enjoy!

Somewhere in Altihex…

*_*_*_*_*

Riffraff smiled eagerly at his newest customer.

“Now, perhaps you would like to look through our files, see if anyone catches your optics before we actually start the meeting,” he said encouragingly, pushing forward a datapad.

Blackcrow took it almost reverently and started reading through it. A lot of faces were scrolled through, mechs and femmes from every age and style, each seeming to look at him with vacant smiles. Drugged, he thought briefly.

“See anything you like?” asked Riffraff. Blackcrow nodded. “A few interesting characters, it seems. However, it’s difficult to choose like this, without seeing first what they look like in reality.”

Riffraff nodded. “Of course, of course, I understand, but I’m afraid it isn’t possible at the time.”

“Oh? I will not be allowed to see them myself?”

Suddenly, Blackcrow looked wary. “Not today, I’m afraid. Only when the conception program will begin.”

“Am I to understand it will not be today?”

“No. We never initiate the necessary procedure on a first meeting with a potential customer. Two or three more will be needed.”

Blackcrow stared at him. “But… it isn’t exactly easy for me to arrange for another meeting. I mean, I can’t leave work when I want; it was already a small miracle that my boss allowed me to have a few hours off, and that was only because I was close to shutting down while at work.”

Riffraff smirked. “And it was a bigger miracle that I agreed to see you so fast. You wouldn’t know how many customers want a sparkling as soon as possible. However, we don’t create them in bulk, even when nicely asked. There are specific steps to take to ensure the well-being of our enterprise. I suppose you can understand that,” he finished in a placating manner.

Blackcrow nodded slowly. Yes, he could understand that this mech searched to be careful.

“Let’s take a look through the prices for a sparkling,” proposed Riffraff

“Prices?” questioned the black mech, frowning. “My contact never said anything about prices. Oh, I have money,” he added quickly, “but will it be enough?”

Riffraff laughed. “Don’t get too worked up. Many people are in your case, and that’s why we offer a long range of price for everyone.”

Leaning back away from his desk, he continued to talk. “Depending on what your demand will be, of course, or what you can afford. We see a bit of everything here. People wanting the perfect sparkling, or one who will look like them, or one with a special alt-mode or schematics. Or people preferring to conceive in the… manual way.”

The black mech’s optics ridges rose. “You… do not automatically do that?” he asked, a bit surprised. “I mean… it’s the normal way…”

Riffraff shook his head. “Of course not. First off, I find it counterproductive and second off, you have no guarantee, even with firewalls down and conception subroutines kicking in, that conception will happen immediately,” he answered matter-of-factly. “We mainly practice artificial insemination. It’s easier and less traumatizing for everyone involved.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as someone who cared, Riffraff,” said the customer, leaning back in his chair.

Riff raff didn’t seem perturbed. Instead, he laughed quietly for a few seconds before speaking. “What I do,” he said quietly, his optics hardening as he spoke, “is a necessity to ensure the continuation of our species. I’m no Primus’ herald, but I’m no sadist either. If sparklings can be created without multiple rapes damaging psyches as well as bodies, then I will ensure that this way is privileged… at least in this facility,” he finished.

A glint of something that looked vaguely like respect went through the optics of Blackcrow, but it was so fast that Riffraff probably didn’t realize, or if he did, he didn’t care.

“Now, as I was saying, everything depends on your choices.”

“Such as?”

“Simply giving nanites-laced transfluid to be inserted in any mech or femme reproduction chamber, without caring for looks or whatever, will cost at least 2000 credits. Now, if you want a specific individual to bear your sparkling, than we have a long range of prices depending on the chosen person, going from 6000 to 15 000 credits. And, if you want to get, ah, ‘physical’, to create your offspring, than it will cost you 20 000 credits… for each attempt, should the first one not be successful.”

“20 000 credits! It’s extortion!” shouted Blackcrow, jumping to his feet.

Riffraff raised a hand in a peaceful gesture. “Now, now, don’t be like that. As I said, it’s only if you want manual, traditional conception. True, in those times where we’re barely getting back to a relatively solid economy, I know it’s quite a lot. However, keep in mind that we are a breeding factory. A place to create newsparks. If what you want is a quick shagging, then I’ll suggest you to head downtown; there are a few brothels that should please you. And they aren’t picky about their customers.”

Blackcrow was silent for a few breems, seeming to mull over something. Riffraff wasn’t worried; most of his clients did at some point, trying to weigh the pros and cons of a decision.

Finally, Blackcrow spoke again. “If I choose the first option… how will I know the sparkling will be healthy or not suffering from any disease?”

“You will be given a full file with medical information on the mech or the femme who bore the sparkling, be reassured. Of course, we will choose ourselves who this person will be, instead of you. By the way, you can only have one sparkling at time. Is it good enough for you?”

“… Mostly. I still have misgivings about the whole things, but it sounds foolproof in the end.”

“So you want to pursue your project? I’m very pleased with that. Of course, I will give you time to think about the option you prefer and the time you need to gather the credits you may not have at this time. I trust we will be seeing each other again.”

Blackcrow chuckled darkly.

“You bet, my mech. Only, there will not be another meeting between us, aside from an interrogation room or the Stockades.”

Riffraff raised an optic ridge. “I’m sorry?” He was puzzled, but at the same time, he wasn’t. No really. He just knew something had been fishy from the start…

Blackcrow smirked. “Right as we are speaking, elite members of specials ops and enforcers from Iacon are surrounding the place. Some of them have already made it inside, and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear an alarm any moment now,” he added as his pulled a weapon out of subspace.

Riffraff looked vaguely startled for a breem, before sighing. “Enforcer… Should have known sooner or later you would come, though I hadn't expected someone to come here posing as a customer.”

And he did; he knew it was only a matter of time before they arrested him, but truthfully, he hadn’t expected them to find him so soon.

“You thought we would just barge in?” asked Blackcrow with a small laugh. “Yeah, we often do that, don’t we? It certainly has it appeal, but it’s not very discreet.”

“Well, yes, so in the end, I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?” he asked lightly.

“You knew we were closing down on you… and you didn’t try to escape?” asked the Enforcer with disbelief.

The dark colored mech shrugged. “What good would it have been? You would have found me again sooner or later. And I would have had to start again from scratch, and it’s not so easy anymore. The population is getting more and more cautious by the joor.”

“Because of guys like you,” the enforcer in disguise pointed out, his voice becoming cold.

“Because of guys worse than me, you mean”, objected Riffraff. “I’m not the worse of the lot when it comes to the treatment of captives; but that, I think, you have already noticed while we were speaking. Besides, contrary to many of my rivals in the business, I don’t prey on the young, barely of age mechs, nor do I prey on the mentally deficient ones. That’s just… disgusting.”

And sick; the one who asked for them, who were they kidding exactly? They were perverts, not mechs and femmes interested in rebuilding the species. In RiffRaff’s advice, nobody underage or with a weak or scrambled processor could be a worthy carrier; sparklings were bound to be weak and flawed themselves with such parents…

“And soon you will tell me that nobody here is there against their will,” said the black mech sarcastically.

Riffraff shook his head. “Now, that would be lying through my dental plates, but you will find that some are here willingly and are remunerated for their services.”

“The sad thing is, I totally believe you,” sighed the black enforcer, powering down his weapon. “They wouldn’t be the first either to comply. Now, if you don’t mind, and since we are waiting for the rest of my team to come down here, I would like to show you a few pictures.”

Riffraff caught on quite easily. “Missing friends of yours you think are in my possession?” he asked plainly.

‘Blackcrow’ grimaced. “Something likes that, yes. Between us, it would be a relief if they were; so far, you’re the more decent breeding factory manager I’ve ever met.”

“I hesitate to take it as a compliment, but thank you anyway. Now, can I see these pictures?”

The Enforcer gave him three. He looked at them carefully. There was only one he was familiar with.

“This one is here,” he finally said, pointing at the picture of a mostly grey mech. “The others, I never saw them before. I have few demands for Minibots, and despite a growing demand for big, strong carriers, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to kidnap the bigger one.”

“Don't have the resources to keep him down, eh?” asked the black mech with some not-so-secret amusement.

Riffraff shook his head. “Mainly, but also because I’ve seen the rest of his team in action, and there is no way I’m ever going near a furious Dinobot or risk bringing their wrath down on me.”

“And Bluestreak… the doorwinged mech… in what condition is he?”

“Is he your offspring?” asked Riffraff, tilting his head. He didn’t think so, but there was always a possibility…

The enforcer’s lips thinned and he powered up his gun anew. “Answer the question before I shoot you,” he said coldly.

Riffraff suddenly knew with certainty that he was a dead mech if his answer didn’t please the enforcer. “He wasn’t manhandled by any clients, I can assure you, but he’s almost at the term of his gestation period. It’s his third,” he added quickly, noticing the cold look headed that way, that blatantly screamed ‘you’re not telling me everything, and Primus will have no mercy for you if you don’t spit everything out right now’.

‘Blackcrow’ relaxed visibly.

“Good. We knew about the first one, but didn’t really think there could have been another somewhere else. You just earned yourself a lot less of pain once my mate gets in there.”

Riffraff didn’t comment. He wondered how much he would need to say to this mech and his mate, or the local enforcer’s forces, about his activities. He was finished, and he would be lucky if he wasn’t executed for his deeds. So the big question was: who was going to go down with him?

Should he betray all of his contacts, or only the more unsavory ones? Perhaps his less scrupulous suppliers in breeders first; he certainly hadn’t liked the way they presented their ‘merchandises’, some of which were barely of age as it was. He knew he wasn't a nice mech, but he also had some principle left.

Outside the room, he could hear faint screams and laser fire, as well as cheering. It seemed that his employees had finally noticed their guests and had chosen to resist arrest. Stupid. They didn’t have the firepower necessary to make a stand against heavily armed law mechs. Ah, well…

“Do you think you could reduce my sentence if I give you the information you’re seeking?” Riffraff asked.

He seemed to think about it for a breem. “It doesn’t depend on me, but I can transmit the message and try to work a deal. But I offer no guarantee,” he added pointly.

“If you don’t mind… I very much doubt that ‘Blackcrow’ is your true name. May I know what is it?” he asked curiously.

The disguised Enforcer smiled widely, with a hint of malice. “The name is Jazz.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

Several days later in Iacon.

*_*_*_*_*_* 

“And another one is closed. Funny. Even if we managed to save a lot of people from a terrible fate, I can’t help but feel useless.”

“You shouldn’t say that. What you did was impressive. Since you got involved, we have managed to double our success rate.”

“Yeah, but for every breeding factory that we find and close, two or three more open elsewhere, and helpless mechs and femmes are dragged to the Pit and back by some sparkless bastards. Frag… even the Decepticons never sink so low.”

“Jazz. Don’t torture yourself over that. We will manage to put an end to those barbaric acts. More and more people enter in the police forces to help close the factories.”

“Funny how sparklings with suspicious background keep popping up, though.”

“Jazz… don’t be so cynical.”

“Sorry, Prowler. I’m just… tired of everything.”

Prowl nodded. He understood his sparkmate perfectly. Raiding a factory was always hard. Former captives were never a pretty sight; so much helplessness, so much fear could be seen in their optics, and all of them were injured in a way, physically or mentally, most of the time both.

Ratchet, First Aid and his fellow Protectobots and any ‘bots with medical experience who volunteered to help them were sometimes overwhelmed by the suffering their patients had endured and the little help they could provide mentally.

“I’m happy we finally managed to find the kid. Didn’t think I would see the Constructicons here, though.”

“But in a way, it was logical. From what they said, they left the rest of the Decepticons once they found themselves in disagreement with the current leadership – although I think it’s more because they saw there was no hope left in the ‘Cons’s cause – and went Neutral, so to speak. However, they’re still wanted mechs for their actions during the war. It was perfectly logical for them to go underground. As for their association with Riffraff… They just had to take care of the prisoners and in return, they were paid, feed and protected.”

“On the mere condition that one of them was always carrying so they couldn’t form Devastator without risking the new spark extinguishing,” pointed out Jazz. “Good way to control them too. Though they didn’t seem to mind that the slightest.”

“They’re scientists, engineers, constructors. In a way, the creation of a new life and any design his shell can take is a fascinating mystery for them,” said Prowl calmly, putting down a datapad. “I looked through their researches and schematics; they created around one hundred different design possible for sparklings and younglings upgrades.”

“What do you think Prime will do with them? I heard some mechs were pushing for their execution on the ground that they are ex-‘Cons.”

Prowl shrugged. He had honestly no idea at this point, but he doubted very much that Prime would allow them to be offlined. They were creators, now, and they had three little ones to take care of, and soon a fourth, as soon as Scavenger would be ready to give birth.

“Most likely, he will make sure they will be sent in a special facility so that they can be reformed while still being around their sparklings. Although he will probably work on a way to keep them from ever forming Devastator again. I heard Perceptor might have found a way for that.”

Jazz leaned in his chair. “Mmm, wait and see, then. They aren’t the worst off, so far. Quite the contrary, actually.”

That much was true. The Constructicons hadn’t seemed unhappy with their situation but, then again, they kept their sparklings with them all the time and had chosen themselves their partners or donors. Sure, they hadn’t been able to go outside as a safety measure, but they had been together and united through everything. And for a gestalt, all the rest was secondary.

“And Bluestreak? How is he doing?” asked Prowl softly, pulling him out of his musing.

Jazz smiled faintly. “Fine enough. Hook took care of him correctly, and I don’t know if I should be grateful or ticked off at him. No virus, no nasty surprise, clean systems. Of course, he’s still clingy and scared, but he should get better with time. Ratchet examined him and the Twins are keeping him company for now. They brought ‘Steel with them,” he added softly.

Prowl tensed slightly. “How… how did he react to him?”

It was one of his biggest worry now that they had finally managed to get back the former gunner.

From the day Bluestreak had disappeared on the way back to his living quarters, the former SIC had never felt at ease. His worries had increased ten paces when they had localized a sparkling sharing Bluestreak’s energy signature. They had taken the little one, named Bluesteel, with them, after he had almost reduced the co-creator to slag.

Prowl snarled mentally, thinking back about the mech. He was so condescending, so full of himself, pretending to have had a one night stand with Blue and carrying the sparkling as a result. He had quickly told them the truth, however, and not just only because Prowl had a gun pointed on his spark chamber with every intention to shoot, and a pedes ready to crush his bonding material to pieces…

It had been a relief to learn that Blue’ had been artificially inseminated, as confirmed by Hook, who had been the one charged of the procedure the three times.

Just for that, Optimus Prime’s former second had managed to keep himself from killing Riffraff on sight. But he wouldn’t forgive anyone involved. Never.

Jazz spoke quietly. “Rather well. He seemed a bit tense and scared at first while watching, then ‘Steel chirped and Blue, well, he totally melted; he took him in his arms and he didn’t let go. As for the little tyke, it seemed to be love and trust at first sight. Nothing really surprising, since it’s his carrier. Last I heard from our favorite medic ‘bot, Blue was petting him in his sleep while speaking to Sunny and Side. I asked for a record picture.”

“Do we have news about the other sparkling mentioned by Riffraff?” he asked curiously. It was hard to imagine that Bluestreak had conceived twice before now. And it was worrisome; just how many sparklings had others conceived during their captivity?

Jazz nodded. “Smokescreen and Bumblebee found him all right. Little mech too, looks a lot like Blue’ but more black and red than grey with smaller doorwings. His designation is Whisper. ‘Screen should bring him to Iacon soon. The other creator didn’t make a fuss; he was honest to the end and agreed to let the little tyke go without too much problems, aside from filling paperwork for visits rights."

Prowl frowned. “Should we allow that?”

Jazz shrugged. “Beat me; in the end, it will be Blue’s decision. But from what I gathered, he shouldn’t refuse. He never met the mech before, after all.”

“Are we sure of that?”

“It’s confirmed by Bluestreak’s testimony, Hook’s reports and Riffraff’s datas. The mech is mostly clean; he wanted a sparkling, and he wanted it right now. If it hadn't been for Blue... He would be totally out of our radar if he hadn’t been involved in this slag.”

Prowl hummed, but said nothing; let’s Bluestreak decide. But if the other Datsun agreed to meeting the other creator of his offspring, Prowl certainly wouldn’t let him alone…

“And Bumblebee? Will he come back too?” he asked, searching to return to the main conversation.

“Nah, not now. He has still several leads to explore with his groups before he agrees to back off. One of the sparklings he has to investigate is from a possible Minibot carrier, so…”

Prowl nodded grimly. He knew very well what the little yellow ‘bot had to be thinking. Bumblebee, although he wasn’t a full member of the Enforcers, was working with them on a matter of leads. Usually, he investigated every sparklings background for clues of their origins. Many unwilling creators had been able to find their little ones and/or get them back if they were willing because of the hard work he pulled every day.

Still, they were worried about him. In some way, Bumblebee had seemed much more shocked by Bluestreak’s kidnapping or by the ill-fated attempted kidnapping of Mirage a while back than they had been. Add to that that one of his former ‘brothers in arms’ had been missing for some time now and… well, he couldn’t blame him.

“I had news from Ironhide and Springer’s teams,” Jazz pursued. “They managed to arrest at least three of Riffraff’s biggest suppliers and their groups. Three dead reported among them, no injured or dead on our side, and six mechs and two femmes freed; from what Ironhide transmitted, they’ll be alright. As for the prisoners… With any luck, we can get them to rat their accomplices and find all the factories in town. It would save us some trouble.”

Prowl smiled thinly. “Good. You send a report to Prime?”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. He seemed pleased enough and sincerely happy we finally managed to get Blue back, but we didn’t have time to speak for long. He had a call from Vos. Some idiots tried to open a factory there. Again.”

“I trust the Seekers lived up to their reputation once more?”

Jazz nodded. “Those fools. They had no chance to survive. When will they learn that you don’t threaten a Seeker with forceful breeding? Every citizen around gave them a piece of their mind… and reduced them to pieces by the same occasion; some of them even took a ‘trophy’ of some sort. I heard Starscream himself was here and ripped off the head of one of the slagger before throwing it in the crowd..”

“Impossible; Starscream is currently Prime’s guest,” said Prowl, his lips forming a thin line. He didn’t trust the former Decepticon at all near Prime. However, Optimus didn’t share his misgivings and accepted quite readily to receive and speak to the Vosian mech.

Rumors of a possible love affair were numerous, but Prowl paid them no mind for now. He had more serious things to consider.

Jazz just shrugged at his lover’s interruption. “I know that. Most likely, it was one of ‘Screamer’s trine. Thundercracker can be particularly vicious. Those guys didn’t stand a chance. Not that I pity them; the less of those people around, the best it is for the population,” he added viciously. Prowl could only nod in agreement.

There was silence between them for a while, both of them lost into their own world. Finally, the visor-clad mech spoke softly.

“You know, Prowler… I know the timing isn’t the best, but… We could take a few days off… I mean, Bluestreak will need someone around to help him take care of the sparklings and to settle back into a normal life, and he needs us near him anyway…” You more than me, he added silenciously.

“I want to, but at the same time… I don’t feel like I can until we have found the others,” sighed Prowl. “Brawn called yesterday, asking for anything new on Cliffjumper. It was really hard to tell him we still haven't discovered anything new, just heard rumors which had been just that, rumors. And then, Wheeljack called too, as soon as he and Ratchet had a breem free between two consultations.”

The engineer was working too at one of the nearest hospital, reconstructing limbs for unfortunate victims. He was kept rather busy most of the time, especially since in most of the factories, people didn’t hesitate in removing the four limbs of their victims to cut down all attempts at escaping.

Talk about trauma… Sure, it wasn’t as traumatizing it would have been to, say, a human, but it certainly wasn’t good to live through, even without the… peculiars circumstances of the removal of said limbs.

Jazz frowned. “Oh. Ratchet hasn’t told him we didn't found anything else for now?”

Prowl shook his head. “Yes, he did. But Wheeljack just wanted to talk anyway; he’s pretty worried. It’s really hard for him to rule in the others Dinobots, and it’s not going to be any easier the more time pass.”

Jazz snorted, but behind his visor, his optics had lost their usual shining.

“That’s an understatement, Prowler,” he said quietly. “Wheeljack has merits. Personally, I don’t fancy telling Grimlock there is still no news from Sludge… Or bring around a little Dinobaby and says that it’s Sludge own little ankles bitter. ‘Cause you just know it will happen sooner or later, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

Prowl sighed. “Neither do I, Jazz. Neither do I.”


End file.
